


Wish You Were Here

by WhatBecomesOfYou



Category: Hunger Games (2012), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Outdoors, F/M, Huddling For Warmth, Hunters & Hunting, Mountains, Snowed In, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatBecomesOfYou/pseuds/WhatBecomesOfYou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katniss is the city girl who needs to learn how to relax. A trip to the mountains for three weeks of peace and quiet may just do her some good... Too bad nothing ever works out quite as you plan it, and that goes for both her trip and her heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wish You Were Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lulubee1234](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lulubee1234/gifts).



> This is the fic that would not stop growing on me. Hope you enjoy! :)
> 
> Includes one minor hunting scene.
> 
> Written for the prompt: "Katniss is finally getting to leave the big city behind. all she's looking for is peace and quiet but when she meets the colorado mountain man peeta mellark, her plans don't go as expected. Outdoor Everlark MA."

Katniss felt the rhythm of the streets traverse her spine as she strode along the sidewalk. She was awash in a sea of black and white and every shade of gray in between.

Sometimes, she really hated being an ad executive in the big city. It was as dull and gray as her walking companions' suits. She slung her red messenger bag over her shoulder – the one that held her entire life in the city in it. It had her laptop, and her cell phone, and a change of shoes. Walking in heels to work was a death sentence for her feet, after all. She much preferred her running shoes. But company dress code dictated something else, so she compromised best she could.

Besides, who would tell her boss? Annie, one of her best friends? She highly doubted Annie cared that much. Annie was always off thinking about her next great adventure with her boyfriend Finnick, also one of their co-workers – which the depth to which their relationship went was a secret Katniss was helping Annie to hide from Human Resources.

Another reason why she doubted Annie would tell a soul about her shoe switcheroo.

She looked in the windows of the shops as she passed them by. Oh, how she desired to break free of her monotonous life. She saw sparkly gems and fine electronics for sale, and passed them all by without blinking. These would not help her escape from it all. Maybe she just needed a weekend out of the city.

Yes. Maybe she could take all that vacation time she had accrued over the years – where else did she have to go, anyway? She had about three weeks saved up, so she could make a real vacation out of the deal.

She was musing about where to go – Finnick would advocate the beach, but he was a swimmer by nature. How he had ended up in a landlocked city like here was something she had never quite understood. But she didn't have a deep desire to tan for three weeks. Or, in her case, burn a deep, scarlet red like the boiled lobsters she apparently shared genetic material with.

It was after moments of musing on the affordability of high-end sunscreen in January that she looked up at the next window, and saw a beacon in front of her instead of just a mere display. It was a travel agency, with a display of snow-capped mountains and happy skiers.

Of course. The mountains. She could find some cute little cabin to rent for three weeks. It had been quite some time since she'd been to the mountains, probably since before Prim left school. And that had been a while...could it have been when her father was – yeah, that was it. She didn't want to finish that sentence, or have the need to. It had been with her father. That was all there was to that.

She thought about the feasibility of it all as she made her way back home.

Three weeks in a cozy little mountain cabin? Maybe do a little skiing, or rest in front of a roaring fire as snow melted off her boots?

It all sounded so nice.

And yet, attainable.

* * *

“You're doing _what_?” Annie asked, in a degree of shock. “I – you've never taken a day of vacation in the whole time I've known you. And that's been five years. And I doubt you were living it up in the sun before I got here.”

“Maybe that's why I need to start now,” Katniss said. “I've been working so long that I've forgotten how to relax.”

“Well -” Annie held out the word longer than was strictly necessary. “Where did you say you were going, again?”

“I found a cabin for rent in the mountains,” Katniss said. “They had a last-minute cancellation, so I got it. Lucky me.”

“Lucky you indeed. Three weeks in a cabin all by yourself...sure you're not going to find some flannel-and-jeans lumberjack or a fluffy little ski bunny to warm you up at night?” Annie's eyebrows waggled at the suggestion.

Katniss let out an audible groan. “You never know. But I'm _not_ going there to find sex, if that's what you're implying. If that was what I wanted, I'd let Finnick hook me up with one of his friends.”

Annie nodded and sipped at her water through a straw. “Just throwing out there as a suggestion.”

“Suggestion noted.”

* * *

Annie's “suggestion” rang in her ears as she drove up an inclined road. Driving was something she rarely did, living in the center of the city as she did, so it was a different sensation to be behind the wheel instead of propelling herself on foot. The trees were getting closer together the further she drove, and they were beginning to hang over the road like a canopy. She could barely even see the sun anymore. Was it still out? She couldn't tell. One thing she could tell was that, thanks to the beams on her headlights being extra bright, snow was increasingly accumulating by the side of the road.

She gulped and pressed her foot on the accelerator. If she remembered the map she'd printed out right, Cozy Snow Mountain Rentals should be just a little bit further ahead. She didn't dare take her hands off the wheel to check even for a moment, though. She was afraid that if she did, she might lose control and then everything would be horrible.

And then she felt her engine just...stop.

She pushed the accelerator harder. Nothing. She got out of the car and inspected the wheels. Nothing, but then again, she was so inexperienced with her car that she didn't know what she was looking for. She slid back into the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition.

Still nothing.

She pounded her fist on the steering wheel, and a piercing blare from her horn sliced through the crisp air.

Great. She was stranded with enough provisions to last a day, tops – that's what she got for living in the city and taking advantage of a restaurant or grocery store on almost every corner. Maybe she could fix crackers and cheese into a feast meant for...well, not royalty, but at least for someone to subside on.

Maybe she could figure out a way to kill small animals with her car keys if it came down to it. She dimly remembered her father's lessons on building a fire without matches, and once she managed to do that, then she could melt snow and stave off dehydration.

She tentatively honked her horn again. Maybe someone would hear her.

Throughout the night, she barely slept, but occasionally pressed the horn again.

It was roundabout sunrise, although it was difficult for her to see the sun through the thick blanket of trees, when she heard a sharp _tap-tap-tap_ at her window.

She tried to push the window down, but it wouldn't go – probably related to whatever caused her car to die – so she opened the door instead. “Hi?” she asked. The tapper was tall, blond, and dressed in a parka and blue jeans.

He cleared his throat and looked at her pointedly. “So, you're the person who has been disturbing my peace tonight,” he said. “It's people like you that made me leave the city. Too much noise.”

“I, uh...sorry? Yes, that's me, but, uh, my car died. I'm not from here.” She felt the words jumble around in her mouth, almost as though she was completely tongue-tied. She hadn't really expected that.

“That much is obvious,” he said. “What are you doing here? You look a little out of place.”

“I'm looking for Cozy Snow Mountain Rentals,” she said. She felt her defensive ire building up inside her. How dare he say she looked out of place – even though it was probably true? That was for her to judge. Not someone who hadn't even met her five minutes before.

He let out a hollow laugh. “You've been going five miles in the wrong direction.”  
  
“Crap.” She bit her lip. She didn't want to show emotion in front of him. If he would just leave her alone, she could wallow alone in her car. But if he left her alone, she might never see another human being again. She looked up at him. “Is there cell phone reception anywhere nearby?”

He laughed again. “You're asking the wrong person. I wouldn't know,” he said. “But look where you are. Do you really think so?”

She gave a cursory glance of her surroundings. Trees, trees, oh yeah, more trees. And snow. And him. “Not really, no.” God, she felt defeated and deflated, and it probably showed.

He softened a bit. “Look, I don't know anything about cars. But I can take you back to my cabin. Maybe later today I can help you back to the main road and find someone who can really help you, maybe call a tow truck or whatever.”

“You'd really do that for me?” she asked. Narrowing her eyes, she continued by saying, “Where I'm from, those would be the last words I ever heard.”

“We're not in some faceless big city. Out here, we live by a different set of rules. Everyone looks out for each other.”

She considered the alternatives to what he was saying. She could stay here and be a wintertime horror story on the news. She could go out to the road herself, and risk getting hopelessly lost, and potentially still a wintertime horror story. Or she could put her trust into a complete stranger and maybe live to laugh about the sotry with Annie over margaritas in a few weeks.

She knew which one sounded the most palatable. “You got yourself a deal.”

“Grab your stuff and let's go, then,” he said.

She grabbed her red messenger bag from the seat next to her and slung it low over her shoulder. Taking her keys out of the ignition, she turned to him. “Okay, ready.”

“Before we go,” he said, “I want to be able to put a name to your face. If you're going to be in my cabin, and all.”

“Katniss,” she said. “And you are?”

“A unique name,” he said. “Peeta. Nice to meet you, Katniss.” He extended his hand to hers and took it within his grasp. Even though he was wearing knit gloves, she could feel a warmth exuding from his touch.

“Talk about a unique name,” she said, willing herself not to visibly react to his touch in any way.

“Shall we?” he asked, jerking his thumb in a vaguely righthand direction. “My cabin's that way.”

She nodded. “Yeah. Show me the way.”

Tiny flakes of snow began to fall as they started their trek to his cabin.

* * *

His cabin was small and sturdy, she observed. It looked a lot like a nicer version of the Lincoln logs cabins that she used to build with Prim. There was a neat white roof – although that may have been because the snow was deeper here than out at the road, obscuring its real color

As he moved around the tiny kitchen – or, to be more accurate, a small metal oven and a table with two rough-hewn chairs, she looked at the rest of the cabin. Tucked in the corner were pots of various sizes, and she wondered if that was what functioned as his bathroom. On the other side of the cabin was a bed with flannel blankets covering it. An easel stood next to the bed in the corner with a partially-finished painting of an owl in flight on it.

He put a small plate in front of her with a generously-portioned slice of bread on it. “You're probably hungry,” he said. “Eat that. Get your energy back.”

She bit into the bread and had to bite back a moan at how good it was. There was an explosion of tastes in her mouth – she tasted the faint traces of what might have been walnut, laced with something dimly fruity. “Oh my God, this is amazing,” she said. “Where did you – did _you_ -”

“Yeah, that was all me,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and offering her a tentative grin. “My folks owned a bakery when I was a child. They taught me a few things.”  


“Clearly they taught you well,” she said. “So why do you live out here by yourself if you could be taking the baking world by storm?”

“Asking the tough questions, I see,” he said, laughing as he sat down in the chair next to her. “I like that I can hear myself think out here. Well, except when I get interrupted by car horns in the middle of the night.” His tone was not vicious, but instead light, and almost teasing. “Not that I'm complaining. Much.”

Neither was she, come to think of it. Yeah, her plans for a relaxing vacation with a roaring fire were likely dashed, but Peeta seemed nice enough, so it wasn't a complete wash.

“So what about you?” he asked. “What's a city girl like you doing in the middle of nowhere like this?”

She swallowed another bite of bread and focused her gaze on him. “I,” she started to say, “decided that I wanted a break from a city life. At least for a few weeks. Learn to relax.”

“And you never anticipated your car dying on you?”

“No.” She had to laugh. “I walk everywhere in the city, so I never drive.”

“And you don't do things like this often.”

 _Vacations, or trusting people?_ “Not really,” she said. “This is my first time.”

“That makes two of us.”

She finished off the slice of bread and looked over at him. “I didn't get much sleep last night,” she said sheepishly. “It's kind of hard to sleep sitting up in my driver's seat.”

“My bed's all yours,” Peeta said. “You can rest while I go hunting, maybe catch us dinner.”

She nodded and crossed the room to his bed. “Thanks, Peeta,” she said as she laid down and folded the blankets over herself. It felt warm in there, and smelled faintly of musk – which, come to think of it, was something she had caught a whiff of from the man himself.

She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

* * *

Katniss had never been one of those people with a very good internal clock. So she wasn't sure exactly how much time elapsed while she was asleep. Just that some had, for she woke up and saw Peeta's face looking back at her from across the room. “Good. You're awake,” he said. “I didn't want to disturb you.”

“Is something wrong?” She bolted straight up and stared at him wide-eyed. Panic coursed through her veins.

“Depends on your definition of 'wrong,'” he said. “Uh, before you say anything else, you should probably look outside.”

She went to the door and peeked out. A fresh blanket of snow covered everything. She gingerly put her leg out, only to find that the snow swallowed it almost to her kneecap. “So, what you're saying is that we are pretty much stuck here in your cabin,” she said.

“Until the snow melts some, yeah, I wouldn't recommend trekking into town,” he said. “I hope you don't have someone back home waiting for you.”

“Not for three more weeks.” _Or not at all_ , depending on how she interpreted his question. “I take it you don't have one of those awesome snowmobiles that can just shoot over the snow?”

“I'm very much like you,” he said. “I walk everywhere.”

“Even to town?”

“Yeah. There's a small town near your mountain rental place. Fisher's Creek. Not much to it, really, but I go in about once a month to restock what I can't get myself.”

“Oh.”

“It's mostly things to make my breads,” he continued. “I catch my own meat. Which reminds me, I put dinner in the oven before you woke up. Hope roast squirrel sounds good.”

Her eyes about welled up with tears at the mention of squirrel. “I haven't had squirrel in a really long time,” she said.

“I hope it lives up to your memories then.”

She wasn't convinced, and the twisted expression on her face probably gave that away to him, but if he noticed, he didn't say a word about it. He just went back to the stove and tended to something, while she watched aimlessly.

A little while later, after she had eaten the last bite of squirrel and finished off the slice of sourdough bread he had given her, she could safely say that she was convinced. It more than lived up to the memory of her father's squirrel. “Very good” she said. “So, what does one do to pass the time up here?”

“Generally, I paint after a long day,” he said. “What would you do back in the city?”

“I'd work late, or if I wasn't, which is rare, I would go out with my best friend Annie and her boyfriend Finnick.”

“Tell me about this Annie and Finnick,” he said. “They sound important.”

“Well, we all work at the same advertising agency, Capitol Advertising,” Katniss started. “Annie and I are junior executives, while Finnick's in sales. He's able to sell vodka to a Russian.”

“Or bread to a Peeta?”

“Or bread to a Peeta,” she said with a laugh. “They're good people, Annie and Finnick. The boss doesn't know they're dating, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him.”

He nodded. “Is there anyone else in your life?” he asked.

“Well, I'm friends with the girl next door in apartment 11, Rue, but my job keeps me so busy that I don't get to socialize much.”

He pursed his lips together. “Okay.” He stayed like that for a moment, almost as if he was pondering her words over, before he snapped out of it. “Well, uh, the bed is yours for whenever you want to sleep.”

“I'm not going to kick you out of your own bed! It's big enough for two! Where would you sleep, anyway?” She looked around the cabin, trying to see if there was any hidden bed – which there wasn't anything apparent, anyway.

“One of the chairs?” He shrugged.

“No. I'm not going to make you give up your soft, warm bed on my account. We can share. I promise I'm warm and don't steal the covers.”

“You're not going to stop until I agree, are you?”

“You're already going out of your way by letting me stay here in the first place. It's the least I can offer in return.”

“Well, okay, if you _insist_...”

* * *

It had been a few days since her arrival at the cabin. And Katniss had to admit, she was getting used to the routine. Especially when part of that routine involved waking up next to Peeta every morning.

She usually awoke first, being a creature of habit who was devoted to her job: early mornings and late nights meant that she could subside on little sleep. He would still be asleep, of course, dark eyelashes fluttering against his fair skin. His soft, even breathing, as if he had not a care in the world. Sometimes in their sleep, they would have inched perilously closer together, and then Katniss could feel his skin brush against hers. Teasing hers.

She had never experienced anything like it before. Some crazy part of her wanted to wake him up one morning with a press of her lips to his.

Bet he'd wake up fast _that_ way.

But she didn't dare. Who said he was even interested in her?

She couldn't explain why her heart constricted like a vise at that thought.

* * *

She had been there almost a week when she was awoken early one morning by something unusual. It was the sound of his voice, thick and slurred by sleep, but still decipherable. “Katniss,” he said, caught somewhere between a whimper and a moan.

She laid there, not even moving a muscle. Maybe she was hearing things. That would be a rational explanation. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe – and then she heard him say her name again, in a low groan, “ _Katniss_.”

There was no mistaking that for anything. She laid there, barely flinching a muscle, as she stared up at the ceiling. She had to weigh the consequences of her potential actions. She could lean into his touch, press her body against his. She could whisper his name - “ _Peeta_ ,” she mouthed, as if to test it out. His name felt full and vibrant on her lips, but to voice it would be to confirm the reality of what had just happened.

She finally decided. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked quietly across the cabin floor to where her shoes sat by the door. It would be easier to think about things rationally when she wasn't mere inches from his arms. She shoved her shoes on her feet, not bothering to tie the laces, slipped her coat around her shoulders, and made her way out to the front porch.

There was a tree stump in the middle of what she considered to be his front yard, and she brushed the freshly-fallen night snow off from the top of it so she could sit down. The first rays of sunlight were just beginning to brush over the landscape, illuminating it in shades of ethereal gold. This was the kind of thing she missed out on living in the city. It was one thing to watch the sun rise over a field of undisturbed snow, and it was another entirely to watch it from between two big city high-rises.

She sat out there for a while. A bird twittered merrily somewhere nearby. It was peaceful and quiet, and everything that she had been searching for when she decided to come out here in the first place.

And then, inside the cabin, was what her friend had taunted her about beforehand but probably never dreamed would actually come true. Except Peeta wasn't – but he _was_ , or at least she featured in his dream life, which said a lot, considering they'd known each other for about the length of a trip to Mexico over spring break.

She exhaled sharply and watched her breath fog in front of her face.

“Katniss?” His voice was questioning. She turned to face him; he leaned against the door frame and looked out at her. He looked like he was still half-asleep. “You weren't in bed when I woke up. I – I thought maybe you had decided to leave, or something. Go back to your car and go home, or something.”

“No,” she said. She couldn't think too hard about the concern that emanated from his voice, for what it implied, and for what it left out at the same time. “I – I wanted to watch the sunrise.”

“If you had told me, I would have woken up for it and watched it with you,” he said.

“I didn't want to wake you.” It was simple, and honest, and to the point: she didn't want to wake him, because waking him would mean facing what existed between them. And what did exist? That was the question singeing the edges of her lips with the possibilities.

“Oh.” He sounded a little disappointed, almost. “Well, uh, I put some eggs on the stove, if you want to come in for breakfast.”

“Sure.” She dragged her foot through the snow. “I – just give me a moment, okay?”

“Sure,” he said, echoing her earlier words. “Take all the time you need.”

As he walked back into the cabin, she stared out at the snow drifts. What was she going to do?

* * *

That night, she sat with her legs hanging over the back of the chair as she watched Peeta paint. It appeared to be the painting of a silhouette against a white backdrop. “What made you start painting?” she asked. “You're really good at it, by the way.”

“Thanks,” he said. “It seemed like a natural transition from pastry-making, I guess. I can admire this work for months and years, instead of the minutes or hours it takes before I devour a beautifully-frosted cookie.”

“That makes sense. Some permanency.”

He nodded and dabbed his brush at the corner of the silhouette's face, refining the features somewhat. “You're leaving in a couple weeks, aren't you?” he asked. “Unless you're planning on leaving before then, if the snow melts.”

She bit her lip. “That's what my plans are, yes.”

“And can your plans change?” His voice sounded – dare she say it? Almost hopeful.

“Do you want them to change?”

“I'm not forcing you to stay here. You can leave any time you want. It might be easier to get back to the main road if you wait until the snow clears, but you're free to do whatever you want.”

“Do you,” she said, standing up and crossing her arms over her chest, “want my plans to change? It's a yes or no question.”

“And I'm _not_ the person who should be making that decision,” Peeta said, putting his brush down and turning to face her. “If you want to stay – stay with me until the conditions improve, then you should make that decision because it's what you want to do. Not because you think it's what I want.”

“I like it here.”

“Fantastic. So do I. It's my home, after all.” He paused for a moment and flicked his eyes back over to his painting, before refocusing on her. “It's my home, and in this past week, you've made a lonely guy not so lonely. I have someone to talk to. Someone to show off my bread-making skills for.”

She smiled. “And you do a really good job of it, I have to say.”

“I don't want you to leave. I'll be really sad when you go back to your life in the city.” He exhaled, and his shoulders slumped forward. “I admitted it, okay? I like having you around.”

“I know.”

Confusion flickered across his face. “Wait – what?”

“This morning. I wasn't wanting to see the sun rise. I woke up when you called my name in your sleep, and I went outside to think.” One honesty deserved another.

His shoulders slumped even further forward, and his back hunched under his touch. “Oh. That. I – I didn't know -”

“It's okay,” she said, attempting to laugh. “It was unexpected, but it's okay.”

He crossed the room and stood in front of her, so close that she could reach out her hand just barely and brush it against his arm. “Katniss,” he said, mimicking the tone from his dream – half-whisper, half-moan, entirely something indescribable that sent shivers dancing in cascades down her spine. “Just this once, please -”

He leaned forward. His lips grazed against hers, tentative, unsure – asking the silent question, “is this okay?”

 _Yes_. She sealed her lips over his, pushing back against him. He let out a short gasp at the feeling – had he not been expecting her to reciprocate? His arm looped around her back and pulled her closer to him, seeking the curves of her body flush against his. Her hand found its way to the back of his head and rested there, playing with the ends of his hair.

He abruptly broke off the kiss and stared at her. His thumb hooked under a lock of hair and he pushed it back to rest on her forehead. “Katniss,” he said again.

She could never tire of hearing him say her name. Awake, asleep, it didn't matter. She craved hearing his voice form the K around his lips, carrying the S through to the end. “Peeta.” It was no longer just her mouthing the words to a silent pantomime audience, but vocalizing it aloud. That kiss – that kiss was all the confirmation she needed. For everything.

“I'm tired,” he said, yawning softly. “I'm going to go to bed – I don't know what you're going to do. It's up to you.” He walked across the cabin and slipped into bed.

“Be right there.” This was clearly the invitation to something greater than just sharing a bed. They could no longer just share a bed as if nothing had happened – something _had_.

As Katniss slid into bed next to him, he folded the blankets over her and drew her closer to him. “Hey,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the spot where her jaw met her neck.

She wrapped her arm around his side and laid against him flat. There had been so many nights of the two of them in this bed, sleeping peacefully, and now she was thinking back on all of those nights and realizing what undercurrents could have been running the whole time. He felt warm. Warmth radiated off him in waves.

His lips sought out her own, questing to touch her. And she allowed him entrance to her mouth. His tongue skirted the edge of her lip, dancing along and tracing patterns with the tip. She burrowed closer to him, seeking as much closeness and warmth as she could take.

If she'd realized just how warm he was a week ago, maybe she would have fallen asleep in his arms long before now. They were strong and warm, and she felt warm and protected. Things hadn't worked out the way she'd thought – in fact, it was closer to how Annie had portrayed things.

She felt Peeta's touch linger at her back, and then she felt his hand slid up her back to caress at her shoulder blades. She laid there and let him touch her, run his hands over her, and she arched into his touch.

Infuriatingly, he was only touching her over her clothes. His hand was touching more of the fabric than he was of her, and she wasn't going to stand for that. Not when she wanted more. She wanted to feel him over her, and inside her, and every other way of being in contact with her. She reached for the hem of her shirt and tugged it up, exposing her stomach to him. “Peeta,” she said, her breath catching. “Please. Touch me.”

He cocked his head as if he was trying to listen to her more intently. “If you insist,” he said, brushing his lips along hers as he ran his hand up her stomach, swirling his finger inside her navel.

It was so – she moved her hands over him, and felt his muscles tense and release under her touch. She exhaled.

And then his hands moved upward and brushed at the swell of her breasts, and his face showed the marvel of what he was feeling. His finger traced her pert nipple, tantalizing her with his touch. If she had a favorite trait of Peeta's right now, it was definitely his hands. Or his lips. Or the way that his thigh was grazing against hers, and she could feel his erection straining through his pants.

With a devilish grin, she reached her hand down to cup at him. She felt his hardness in her grasp – she wanted to feel more. It wasn't enough to feel him through fabric. She needed the skin-on-skin contact. She needed to feel him. More. That was the word that kept running through her mind.

He gasped at her touch, and moved to palm her breasts in reply, each hand holding a breast in rapt attention. “Katniss,” he said, “oh, you don't know what you're doing.”

“I don't?” she asked, arching an eyebrow as she unfastened his jeans and attempted to push them down his legs. Through his briefs, she felt him twitch, and she bit back a grin. “I think I know exactly what I'm doing.”

He moved over her, as to where he was laying on top of her, instead of being curled into her side as he had been. “No, you really don't,” he said. He took his hand and moved it in a blaze of molten fire to her waist, where he confidently undid the clasp of her jeans and thrust it inside. His fingers flattened her hairs and tangled inside them, and she felt her hips buck up into his touch. She wanted him to continue his adventure, go even further down – and then, she felt his finger part her folds and hook inside her. It was almost as if he could read her most craven desires as if they were a book. His finger pumped in and out of her, picking up the tempo as he did so.

Were fingers considered separate from hands? Because if so, his fingers deserved a credit all their own. He slammed his finger into her, hitting her sweet spot repeatedly, and she let out a low moan. At least if he made her scream, there would be no one around for miles to hear her. Back home, her neighbors would either knowingly wink at each other or think she was being murdered, depending on how paranoid they were. And she figured the old lady above her would think the latter.

She curled her body into his touch and pressed her legs together to keep his hand right where it was – between her legs, inside her.

With his other hand, he pushed at her pants, trying to push them off her in a frantic haze. She acquiesced by parting her legs ever-so-slightly, to aide in the dispersion of her pants. She wanted them nowhere near her. And if it meant that Peeta would be able to better bring her pleasure with his ministrations, so much the better.

She looked at him, and saw a mixture of lust and something more subdued lurking just below the surface reflected in his eyes – his pupils were dilated and round, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

Her pants pooled around her ankles, she then made kicking motions to discard them. As she did so, Peeta ran the palm of his hand flat over her breasts. He continued to pump at her, and she lolled her head back, as if she was boneless and assuming any form that suited her desires.

She felt her juices cascade over Peeta's hand and trickle down the insides of her thighs, and she let out a gasp. “ _Oh._ ”

Peeta grinned. He wiggled his hand out from inside her – which led Katniss to let out a short mewl of consternation. “Glad to hear it,” he said, taking the hand that had been on her breasts and sliding his hand behind her neck, pulling her forward for another kiss. “And now you see why you didn't know what you were doing.”

“I – I stand by the fact that I did, if that was what happened as a result,” she said. She struggled to catch her breath, as she leaned her head back into his touch.

He leaned forward, and she felt his erection pressing against her. She knew what was coming – and she itched to release him from his prison. Feel him against her, have the friction of skin on skin contact. Feel him inside her again, but this time, not with the tease of his fingers. With one hand, she cupped at him, and with the other, she undid the clasp of his pants. She allowed the fabric to fall against her hand, and he writhed under her touch.

Once the pants were finally – blessedly – off, along with the underwear he wore as well, she took in the sight of him. Impressively sized, she had to say. The torrid thought of her moving down his body and taking all of him inside her mouth ran through her mind. How would he react if she did that? She could practically hear him hiss her name in pleasure, the little surprised gasp that would emit from his lips when he realized what she was doing.

She was about to react, bring the fantasy version of Peeta to life in front of her, when he reacted first. One of his arms wrapped around her stomach, the other grasped the back of her neck, and he turned her from his side so that she was underneath him. “Katniss,” he said, propping himself up on top of her and positioning himself against her thigh, tantalizingly just below her lips. “If you don't want this -”

“I do,” she said, leaning up to kiss him. His scruff brushed against her chin, and it tickled, and she breathed in deeply. Could he stop tormenting her any time now?

His face lightened considerably at her words, and he pushed forward so that he was inside her. She felt the pressure of him filling her, and she desired more. More of him, because he was so good at what he did. He had only just begun, and she felt a little tingle at the bottom of her spine.

Gradually, he began to rock inside her – at first, it was slow and tantalizing, giving her little hints of what was to come. She writhed underneath him, hitching her ankles behind his calves, drawing him in closer to her. And then, almost as if her motion had granted him a measure of confidence – after all, he wasn't doing anything to her that she didn't want to be done – his tempo picked up, and she angled her hips so that he had a more desirable angle from which to hit the spots that brought her the most pleasure.

He buried himself deep inside her, and pressed open-mouthed kisses to the base of her neck, grazing at the neckline of her shirt. Somehow, she had forgotten that it was still there, pushing up and exposing all but the stripe of skin between her breasts and her neck, but it was. His lip caught on the fabric, and she reached for the shirt. She tugged it above her head and threw it onto the pillow, and then leaned up so that her breasts grazed along Peeta's chest. Her nipples dragged against the fabric of his shirt – wait, he was still wearing his shirt too.

How had he made her feel so good when there were still so many layers of clothing on them?

She blamed the cold wind that she could distantly hear howling through the nearby trees for the layers. But Peeta was all she needed to keep her warm. He had been doing that for a week now, in a purely platonic sense, and now that he was doing it in a decidedly less-so manner, she couldn't imagine having it any other way.

As she refocused on what he was doing, she noticed that he had apparently mastered the art of taking off his shirt without her realizing it. He was completely multi-talented, or so it seemed to her at that moment. He could bake, and paint, and take care of himself off the land and monthly trips into the tiny town nearby, and, perhaps most importantly at that moment, knew just how to slam into her at an angle that made her toes curl and a short hiss escape from her mouth. And his chest – she splayed her hand out and brushed her hand against a nipple.

He let out a groan. She bit back a smirk. So two could play at this game. He could make her feel good, and she could still tantalize him with the very best.

She felt tension coil in her stomach, and she stared straight ahead. His eyes shone brightly in the dim light of the nearby lantern that lit their movements. She knew that she had to be close, or else she wouldn't be feeling this way – feeling as if some intangible part of her was going to explode with the mere touch of a finger.

It wasn't very much longer – although in her heightened sense of arousal, time-telling wasn't her strongest suit, so it could have been seconds or minutes or hours and she wouldn't have known – before white-hot sparks and stars shot before her eyes, as she felt her stomach uncoil and the tension release in a torrent. “ _Peeta_ ,” she said, almost in a scream. She held out the name; she wanted to feel nothing but his name on her lips.

With a grunt, he came inside her, and he kissed her, long and hard, as if to reclaim his name from her. He gradually slid out of her, almost reluctantly, and then laid down next to her. He pulled his arms around her and pulled the blanket over them. “You were – that was -”

“That was amazing, was what that was,” she said. She could still feel the throbbing between her legs, the burning desire that had not abated, even after everything. She probably wouldn't be able to walk for a while, but that wasn't a problem. After all, the only place that she really wanted to be was here, in his bed, in his arms. She laid her head against his shoulder, her hair brushing the top of his arm. “You – you know just how to make me feel good.”

“I'm glad.”

She closed her eyes and snuggled into his neck further. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Why do you have two chairs at your table? You've always lived alone, or so you said, and I know you said you made those yourself.”

“Call it optimism.” He laughed under his breath and kissed the top of her head. “Good night, Katniss. Sweet dreams.”

 _They'll all be sweet, because you're the only thing I can think about right now._ “'Night.”

* * *

She awoke one morning in the middle of the next week and burrowed her head into his shoulder. They had had another marathon session of sex the night before – the tingling between her legs wouldn't stop, not for anything. Not that she wanted it to. But she always felt warmer on these mornings after they had had sex, because the warmth that emanated from him was enough to warm even the chilliest of hearts. And she didn't just mean the fact that he was physically warm.

She knew that the snowdrifts were still piled up around her – _his,_ she mentally amended, although she was beginning to think of it as home, just a little – cabin, and she loosely wondered about what would happen if she had to stay past the three weeks. She hadn't even thought about her car in a while. It'd probably been towed off to some car lot in the next major town, possibly sold for scrap metal. Not that she'd particularly miss it. Not that she even particularly used it, so it wouldn't affect her daily life back home.

She looked outside, through the window that was just over Peeta's shoulder. Lazy white snowflakes fell from the sky. It was a sight to which she had grown very accustomed in a short amount of time.

“You're awake,” he said, his voice thick with sleep and a hint of arousal. “I didn't know you were awake.”

“I didn't want to wake you,” she said, kissing him softly.

“Best way to wake up, ever.”

She tilted her head to the side. “No, I think that would be you inside me.”

“You're right. Your wish is my command.” He embraced her, and then turned himself so that he was hovering over her instead of laying next to her, and the tip of his erection slid against the inside of her thigh. She smiled wide as he slid inside and began to thrust inside her.

It really _was_ the best way to wake up.

* * *

The next day, he took her outside during a lull in the snow. “I only have so much meat on hand,” he said, “and we're about to run out of it, and I don't want to make us live on bread alone.”

“I think I could live on just your bread though,” Katniss said, as she walked along and examined the knife that Peeta had handed her. It was long and sharp, and appeared to be quite lethal for whatever animal was unlucky enough to cross her path.

He got down on his knees to examine a trap that he had set. “Damn. I was hoping that a rabbit had hopped on through and gotten stuck. I have a rabbit dish that I've been wanting to make for you.”

She turned away from him, distracted by something passing through the trees nearby. “Shh,” she admonished, pulling out the knife and angling the blade. “There's a deer. I think I can get it.”

“Venison would be -”

“Shh!” She positioned the knife, and with a flick of her wrist, she sent the knife spiraling through the air in the direction of the deer. It made contact.

She ran over to it. “I got it!” she exclaimed.

He followed her footsteps over to her and knelt down next to her, in order to examine what she had done. “Way to go,” he said, kissing her cheek. “You're officially a nature girl now. You're a natural at it, you really are.”

“Thanks.” She kissed him back and hefted the deer onto her shoulders. “Mind helping me carry this back to the cabin? I think we're going to be eating well.”

“I agree,” he said, as he took the other side of the deer. They retraced their steps that they had previously tread, and snowflakes began to fall as they walked, obscuring the path. But Peeta knew the way back – of course he knew the way, he knew this area like the back of his hand, because he was the one who had settled this land and tamed it for his own purposes.

As they set the deer down on the porch, they exchanged looks, and Katniss had a sudden wave of panic rush over her head.

_Can I really leave him in a little over a week? Can I really go back to my old life and pretend that nothing happened here? Can I?_

She willed herself not to think about it, lest she start to cry. And then she'd have to explain her tears, and she didn't want to make Peeta endure all that. She was beginning to acclimate out here, but at the same time, the city was where her home was.

No matter what she did, it wasn't going to be easy.

* * *

She watched him paint, again, a few days later. The silhouette painting sat propped against the wall, and now he was working on a painting of two figures. “So, what are you painting?” she asked, dropping her hand against the back of the chair.

He dabbed a square of red on the one figure. “I paint what I see,” he said, his voice faint and mysterious.

“You started with owls, as I remember.”

“Yes. That was part of my 'animals I hear at night' collection. You can see the whole gallery if you'd just ask.” He filled in the square with careful brush strokes of deep scarlet red. “And now I've moved on.”

“Oh?”

He gestured to the silhouette. “That's you in the snowstorm.” He stood back, so that she could see his newest work in progress. “And that's us. Together.”  


“And the red thing?” She had to ignore the feelings that bubbled in her chest at his declaration.

“That's the messenger bag you brought with you,” he said, gesturing to where it laid on the floor by the bed. “Because it makes you stand out. Even though you do that entirely by yourself.”

She had to fight back tears at that point, and she bit her lip. He was too sweet. Too perfect. She'd found a soft-hearted mountain man with a heart of gold, and she didn't want to let him go, but they were expecting her back in the city any day now.

“Katniss,” he said, putting down his palette and walking over to her. “What's wrong?”

“I -” she paused, and tried to find the right words, even though the right words were always missing. She never knew how to put things elegantly, so that people would listen to her. “My vacation's over in a few days. I need to go back to the city.”

His face was thunderstruck. “Do you really have to leave?” he asked, his voice wavering. “Or – _Katniss_ -” It was him begging her to stay, without saying the words aloud. He turned back to face the painting, and his voice was choked up as he spoke, “I was hoping you would stay. At least a while longer.”

“I've already stayed longer than I intended,” she said. “I thought that I was just going to get something quick to eat and then you'd help me contact AAA and I'd be back on the road to Cozy Snow Mountain Rentals before noon.”

“And things didn't turn out that way.” He fidgeted back and forth, pacing between the bed, the easel, and the other, unoccupied chair. “But you've enjoyed yourself.”

“I have.”

“You only checked your cell phone once, and that was that first day.”

“And there was no reception. I bet my voicemail inbox is full of concerned messages from Annie and Rue,” she said. “But I haven't really had the motivation to check. I – I've enjoyed spending the time with you instead of checking my phone for messages every five minutes.”

“Is there anything I can do to convince you to stay?” He plopped down on the bed and looked at her, imploring her with his expression. He looked like Prim's old cat Buttercup when he wanted food, and she half-expected him to start meowing at any moment.

She thought for a moment, giving it careful consideration. “I can think of _one_ way...” she said, and she crossed the room and grasped the back of his neck, pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

Sometimes, it was better to let the heart do the talking, because her brain would have never gotten her into this situation to begin with.

* * *

A few weeks later, Annie walked in the door of her apartment building from another long day at the office. She flicked her eyes down to her phone. There was still no sign of Katniss, no sign of contact from her since the day she drove out there. Annie wasn't a person who dealt in negativities, so she wanted to think as positively as she could about the lack of communication.

She was doing good. She was doing well. She'd fallen in love with her ski instructor and ran off and was planning on having his babies.

Or something.

She turned the key in her mailbox, and pulled out the small stack of mail that waited for her. Bill, bill, catalog...postcard? It showed a gorgeous mountain landscape, all snow-capped and pristine. The text on the card said “Greetings from Fisher's Creek!”

She flipped the card over. In Katniss's distinctive handwriting, she saw the words “wish you were here” scrawled across the back. At the bottom, it was signed “Katniss,” and then a strange handwriting with the name “Peeta.”

 _Peeta_. Damnit, she had gone ahead and done it. It had been a joke, a lark, a commentary on the fact that Katniss didn't do the whole dating scene. And she'd risen to the occasion. Above it, even.

“You won, Katniss,” Annie said, as she walked up the stairs to her apartment, a grin crossing her face as she looked down at the card again. “You won.”

- _fini_ -


End file.
